Shriveled Orange
by PtrsonsZOO
Summary: Cmdr. Ked Bazzok takes on a dangerous mission along with the rest of the Screaming Tauntauns. EU Era
1. Chapter 1

_**Publishing Date:**_ 2009.03.11  
_**Disclaimer:**_ Don't own a single cred's worth, and I've got nothing to scrounge for either, so I'll just have to hope for the grace of Lucas.  
_**Era:**_ EU  
_**Characters:**_ New Republic Fighter Pilots  
_**Rating:**_ T for Teen

_**Summary:**_ Cmdr. Ked Bazzok takes on a dangerous mission along with the rest of the Screaming Tauntauns.

_**A/N:**_ Started off as a simple birthday fic for my favorite man in orange, and has now turned into an adventure fic starring a bunch of my orange buddies. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Typically, sitting in a spaceport tapcaf nursing an ale was one of his favorite ways to watch a set of suns rising. But this was not one of those times. Commander Kedex Bazzok was about five drams of dust and grime away from looking like a wing commander in the New Republic Starfighter Command as he feigned another sip from the battered scrap metal mug in front of him.

When Captain Mannison came in with the mission assignment for the Screaming Tauntauns he was excited. It was thrilling to finally have a real blood and guts, nitty gritty mission of importance for his squadron. They were finally getting to exercise some of those covert intelligence skills they had been developing since becoming part of a New Republic, instead of acting like a bunch of rag tag rebels. He was excited and thrilled, but that was before he got to spend five days in Mos Espa carousing through the various houses of ill repute, trying to locate a contact within the Karazak Slaver's Coopertive.

The Red Moons had done a pretty good job of putting the KSC on the run ever since their attack on the group's Gabredor base. So, when New Republic Intelligence started getting reports out of Tatooine regarding their movements through Mos Espa, it became their mission to track them down. The only problem they had was that most of the commando units were very well known on nearly every planet touched by the suns in the Tatoo System. And that's where the Screaming Tauntauns came in. Ked, being Ked, was selected to go planetside, incognito, to nerf out a contact while the rest of the squadron remained masked in the dark gaseous shadow of the brightly burning Tatoo II.

The last thing he heard from the other members of his squadron was that if they found him with even the slightest hint of a vacation tan, he would never hear the end of it. And when Lieutenant Reerick Waalsciki held something over a person's head, they knew it.

The only bright spot to the mission so far had been meeting up with their old friend Chym Rrawkstr. Chym was very familiar with the various contingents operating in the Tatoo System, and a trusted source among their squadron members.

As Chym slipped in behind the table with Ked, the man chuffed, "You really don't like this place do you?"

Ked wiped his hand over his face, smearing more dust and grime in the process. "I don't mind the heat, but I feel like I'm being roasted alive over an open spit in this blasted desert air."

Chym scrunched up his face and asked, "You'd rather be steamed and boiled alive?"

"Sure…" Ked shrugged before throwing back the last swallow of his cheap ale. "At least then I could enjoy a decent drink without feeling like someone just threw a trickle of water on a frying pan."

Holding up his hands in defeat, Chym offered, "Sorry about that… I forgot it's all about the Grakkyn with you."

"Better believe it, buddy." Ked signaled the bartender for another round and nudged his questionable friend in the direction of the even more questionable Rodian slinking into tapcaf through the backdoor.

Both men watched as the Rodian made his way to a secluded booth in the back of bar. He wasn't long in the shadows before slipping through the back door once more. As Ked watched the anemic looking non-human slither away, Chym's eyes never left that dark corner.

When a lone figure emerged from the shadows, Chym nudged his companion and said, "That's not where the action is, old pal."

Following his gaze, Ked focused in on the stoic figure crossing the room. He squinted for a moment, trying to hone in on the face of the man. There was something vaguely familiar about him that Ked just couldn't seem to put a finger on. And then the man slowly changed the course of his direction and passed by their table. Catching a ray of light, Ked was just able to make out the glint of the coin before it was plunked down on the center of the table.

The man had flipped the coin at them, and before he could examine it closer, Chym scooped it up and stood, laying a few creds on the table top and slamming down the last of his ale. "We gotta move."

Not saying another word, Ked grabbed up his tankard, slugged back the ale and followed Chym out the side door. It was obvious something was going on, and he just needed to keep up and stay alert. A quick slide of his hand to his hip and his weapon was in perfect range. He released the snap atop his holster and prepared for the worst.

Out in the harsh light of a Tatooine morning, Ked and Chym were thrust. Immediately, Ked lifted his shades up to cover his eyes, and to get readings from the heads up display showing behind the dark plasteel. Scanning the few passersby in the street, Ked was able to quickly eliminate them as the man from the tapcaf.

As they rounded a corner, Chym slipped the coin to Ked and whispered. "That's a helluva calling card." The moment Ked's fingers touched the coin he recognized it and he ripped the shades from his face to stare Chym dead in the eye. "That's right… Even a spacer like me knows one of Cracken's Crew Coins when I see 'em."

Ked searched his own databanks to try and recall who, if anyone, other than Cracken, had survived their service during the Galactic Civil War. And then the name hit him like a ton of durasteel. "But that could only be-"

The man came out from the shadows of the alley and caught them both unaware, forcing them to draw their weapons. "Is that anyway to greet an old friend, Bazzok?"

"Pike Angeles?" His blaster still raised and at the ready, Ked finally exclaimed, "I thought you were dead!"

"You aren't the first person to tell me that." The man motioned for them to follow him further into the alley. "And I'm starting to take it personal."

Holstering his gun, Ked offered, "Then maybe you oughta tell your boss to stop having funerals for you." And they quickly stole away through a hidden entrance.

"Only if I wanted people to figure out I was still out here." Closing the door, Pike turned back to them with a broad grin. "And that would pretty much ruin two standard years of work infiltrating the KSC."

With a look of complete astonishment, Ked asked, "You-…You got in on the inside?!"

"Why don't you say it a little louder, you laser-brained space jockey? I don't think the Trandoshans over in Mos Eisley heard you." Pike motioned them to the chairs, "Have a seat and I'll get you both up to speed."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Publishing Date:**_ 2009.03.11  
_**Disclaimer:**_ Don't own a single cred's worth, and I've got nothing to scrounge for either, so I'll just have to hope for the grace of Lucas.  
_**Era:**_ EU  
_**Characters:**_ New Republic Fighter Pilots  
_**Rating:**_ T for Teen

_**Summary:**_ Cmdr. Ked Bazzok takes on a dangerous mission along with the rest of the Screaming Tauntauns.

_**A/N:**_ Started off as a simple birthday fic for my favorite man in orange, and it has now turned into an adventure fic starring a bunch of my orange buddies. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Normally stocked from bulkhead to bulkhead with various forms of highly profitable contraband, the Mieneapol-S'Pal's hold was instead filled with the revelry of New Republic pilots and a dozen X-Wings. Watching their antics on the ship's vid-screens did nothing to lighten her helmsman's mood.

The only thing worse than being reduced to the status of a smuggler's lackey, was being turned into a taxi service for a bunch of glorified pirates in the New Republic. His disgusted grimace was firmly in place when his solitude was interrupted by the entrance of a more familiar passenger.

"Ya know… You can't hide up here forever, Dael." Ree was his boss' newest flame, and a real pain in his hind parts. "Eventually the two of you are gonna have to share the same airspace."

"Not if I can help it." He shot her a very determined glare. "And you'd do well to remember you're only a guest on this ship."

"And you'd do even better to remember just whose _guest_ I am." Dael instantly realized he had made a mistake, but there was nothing he could do, except suck it up and take it like a man. "You wanna be a nerf brained, sullen ex-pat, you go right ahead. But just you remember when you're old and alone in some dark corner of the universe, that **_you _**are the one who walked away from your own family."

As he watched Lt. Reerick Waalsciki angrily leave the cockpit, Dael cursed his horrible luck. Only man in all of the Elrood Sector with such lousy luck to not only get drummed out of Imperial service for a practical joke, but to end up with a price on his head for the same joke. But that wasn't enough, he had to end up getting passage out of the sector with the only smuggler in the universe to be fooling around with the same rebel scum who recruited his half-witted twin brother.

Checking the vid-screen from bulkhead 4-F, Dael shook his head as he watched a mirror image of himself holding a gunport over his head while one of the other rebels flash-welded it into position. "Strong backs and weak minds… The Bellor Family Curse." He punched the feed button and killed the screen as he turned to stare out the viewport.

**_AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA_**

Storming into the galley, Ree ripped a mug down from the rack and slammed it on the counter. After years of flying together, Hof instantly picked up on the signs; Ree was in a bad mood. "Trouble in paradise, Sunshine?"

"Don't even try it, Boss. It's not worth the battle damage." She didn't even look in his direction as she spoke, and Hof was ready for the reign of terror that was sure to come. "I just want to know which genetic code it is that makes you men so blasted stubborn!" With the last word she slammed a cabinet door as she rifled through the mess for something she wanted.

Thankfully for Hof, Lt. Aneli Honsm had joined him in the galley for caf and a little strategy talk. "It's probably related to the same code that makes us try to figure out why they're so blasted stubborn in the first place." Her casual delivery made Hof want to laugh, but several years of marriage had taught him some restraint, and he held it in.

Aneli certainly knew her audience, because Ree turned back around laughing. "You're probably right. But it's still irritating."

"And exactly why we still have male-female relations. There's just something to be said about conflict being so unbelievably sexy." That time Hof did laugh out loud at the sarcastic inflection in Aneli's voice.

Ree poured the caf into her mug and walked back through the doorway exclaiming, "Ain't that the horrible truth!"

Once Ree was well out of ear shot, Aneli asked, "And what was that all about?"

Hof sighed and shrugged it off. "Who knows? But I'm certainly not about to open that cave of mynocks."

**_AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA AGFFA_**

"Just hold it steady another minute…" From atop the service ladder, Chief Terrin Bathoroy handled the laser welder with a kind of awkward deftness. Each weld point on a laser cannon required a rigid accuracy, even when they were not online, but when powered up, it was almost suicidal. "And remember, one slip, and the Captain will be able to send us home in a flimsiplast bag."

"No pressure, Terrin… Why don't you just leave a gundark breathing down my neck next time?" Chael closed his eyes and struggled to keep the cannon perfectly in place as Terrin powered up the welder again.

"Don't tempt her, monkey boy." Ree walked into the makeshift hangar area in time to watch the big show.

"Thanks, L.T., but she doesn't need any help tormenting me." With the tiny flecks of superheated durasteel showering onto his back, Sergeant Chael Bellor squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent prayer to survive the task and the torture of his squadron mates.

"Okay…" Terrin switched off the welder and pulled off her goggles. "All clear." She looked over and finally noticed that Ree had entered. "Oh, hey, L.T., I swear, I didn't damage your wingman. Abused, yeah, but nothing permanent." She pushed the mop of multi-colored hair from her forehead and smiled.

"The abuse is good for his character." Ree winked at the tall, slender woman on the ladder. "Besides, someone has to keep Ked's bucket of bolts in working order. Especially the way he flies."

"Careful, I think he's got this thing bugged. He hears you talking about his skills like that again, and I'm not gonna be responsible for the beat down the Cap gives you two again." As Terrin climbed down from the ladder, Chael held out a hand to make sure she was steady.

"Nah, I won't make that mistake again. I'll keep to the windy side of his ego from now on. But it doesn't mean I'm gonna stop busting his chops." Ree tossed the two rations of Jawa Juice to the squadron's defacto mechanics. "You guys look like you could use a break."

Terrin quickly picked up on the downturned gaze of the lieutenant and took her leave. "Most definitely, and it'll give me a chance to see if Orin and Marina are having any trouble reprogramming your navicomp." Terrin gave Chael a soft slug in the arm when she offered, "Give those arms a break, Bantha breath, and we'll get to that last cannon after our watch shift."

As Terrin slipped out between two columns of trade goods crates Chael exhaled sharply. "Well, since you wanted to tell me without an audience, I guess the news isn't good."

"Always the empath, Chael." Ree sat down on a crate and motioned for her wingman and protégé to join her. "What can I say, stubborn must be genetic."

"Add in a few years of Impie brainwashing and you might come close… But I seriously doubt it." Chael slumped down onto another crate and shook his head. "Guess I shoulda known. He was the one who came out last, and even then they practically had to go in there to get him."

Chael inhaled a big chestful of air and then put on smile. "Oh well, at least I know where he is now. And with you around wearing him down at every turn, hopefully he'll come to his senses eventually."

"Or suffer the consequences." Chael laughed at the comical gesture on Ree's face as she chortled maniacally.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Publishing Date:**_ 2009.03.11  
_**Disclaimer:**_ Don't own a single cred's worth, and I've got nothing to scrounge for either, so I'll just have to hope for the grace of Lucas.  
_**Era:**_ EU  
_**Characters:**_ New Republic Fighter Pilots  
_**Rating:**_ T for Teen

_**Summary:**_ Cmdr. Ked Bazzok takes on a dangerous mission along with the rest of the Screaming Tauntauns.

_**A/N:**_ Started off as a simple birthday fic for my favorite man in orange, and it has now turned into an adventure fic starring a bunch of my orange buddies. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"That's fragging impossible, Ked! There's just no way Pike Angeles is still breathing, let alone hiding deep within the KSC framework. That's a holovid tale, if ever I heard one!" Tall, and gesturing wildly to show his sincerity, Flight Officer Orin Mallix became the center of attention with his outburst. With everyone seated in the ship's galley, Ked and Chym relayed the information to the team. Everything was going well until they dropped the big bomb.

They both knew everyone would be resistant to the revelation, but Ked knew the truth better than he knew the controls of his own fighter. "You think that didn't cross my mind, Mallix? But I know exactly what I saw, and there's no way he faked a Cracken's Crew Coin."

"Doesn't mean he didn't take it off of one of the Red Moons after their last mission. They were all part of Cracken's underground crew." Master Sergeant Marina Jacyth was often the peacemaker in their unusual squadron. Her understanding nature and more than pleasant appearance helped to smooth over many a disagreement in the Screaming Tauntauns.

"Nah, I knew Pike." Chym did his best to allay everyone's fears. "I used to pilot some of those ships he was slipping out of the Imp bases during the Rebellion. And I've come up against him a time or two since then, as well. He's even got the scar on his neck from a close call we had on Ryloth." Chym looked around the room and sealed the deal with his last statement, "And that was just weeks before his funeral, but I bet you never saw that in any of the holovids, huh?"

"Still hard to believe," Sergeant Major Ray'e, always the skeptic, added her very dry two creds to the conversation.

Hof had the final word on the matter. "Ked, how sure are you that it's Pike?"

Ked answered with the one thing that told any pilot he was dead serious, "I'd bet my wings on it."

Nodding, Hof asked him to continue, "Good enough for me." Everyone else nodded in agreement. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, it looks like they only transport out from Mos Espa. The real action is in another hole by the name of Anchorhead. Lots of trading in and out of that spaceport, and the Hutts don't control it, like they do Mos Espa and Mos Eisley, so they've got a higher profit margin trading out of there, and just paying berthing tributes in the other two." Ked brought up a holo-map of the three spaceports and then zoomed in on Anchorhead.

"Here's where it gets hairier than an overgrown Wookiee." Chym pointed to the big open spot at the south end of the port. "They keep everything underground. And I mean underground. See this depression over here?" He pointed to the dip in the landscape and then zoomed in a little closer.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Aneli was the first to spot the real problem. "That's worse than any canyon rim I've ever skipped through.

"Exactly." Ked tossed out a few snapshots of the area from his macrobinoculars. "You gotta have clearance before they open the mouth for the freighters to land. Otherwise, the only access is with skiffs and speeder bikes."

The squadron passed the pictures around and each was able to see the opened entrance. The next question came from the barrel-chested Sergeant Cilan Vae, "So, we've gotta have someone on the inside to key the entrance and allow the attack?"

"If only it was that easy." Ked dropped the next group of snapshots. "They unloaded a whole shipment of slaves from Ryloth while we reconned the site."

Standing up, Katsu Ma'roy, the squadron's intelligence officer, picked up the snapshots and declared, "Congratulations, boys and girls… We've just graduated from a strike and fade mission to a full blown rescue and destroy operation." The groans of frustration made their way around the room and the whole squadron knew things had just gotten very serious.

Hof stood up and ran a hand through his thick mane of hair. With a shake of the head, he explained, "Gaining the trust of Ryloth is paramount for the New Republic. Consider this an upgrade. So, I want everyone to triple check the gear and the ships." He turned to his seasoned mechanics and said, "Terrin, take Edge and Orin, and coordinate any remaining repairs to get these birds squared away ASAP." Moving to his right hand and wing_man_, "Marina, take Chael and police up as much ordinance as we can carry for this one. We're gonna need it. Requisition the other pilots as you see fit to get it all done."

Looking at his wing commanders, Hof nodded and pointed to his cabin. "Let's get this thing down to a science before we even attempt it. It has to be flawless this time, because I'm not about to train anymore pilots for this squadron. Everyone flies home, folks."

They all agreed, each with a firm fist on the tables and an echoing, "Whoooooop!"

Always the morale officer, Ree called back, "Screaming Tauntauns say what?"

Much louder than the first one, each one slammed their fist into a table and hollered out, "WHOOOOOOP!"

**_AGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGF FAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAA GFFA_**

With both hands fisted in his hair and his elbows pinned to the table in his quarters, Hof was beyond frustrated as they worked out the plans for their raid. For the third time, Ree tried to convince them that a straight assault was the only way to get in, and he had run out of ways to tell her otherwise.

Even bringing Chym in on the strategy meeting had proven fruitless. It was just getting louder. Finally, Hof reached the end of his patience. "Enough!" He slammed both hands on the tabletop to emphasize his aggravation. "We're getting nowhere, people!"

Ked stood up from his chair and wiped his hand from back to front over his shaved head and agreed, "Cap's right. We need to take a step back and look at this thing from a different angle."

Draining the last of the caf from her mug Aneli pushed away from the table. "No, we need to scrap everything and start over fresh. But we aren't going to get anywhere if we don't stop and take a break."

Chym nodded his head and joined the consensus. "She's right. Let's just take a breather and come back fresh. Maybe stretching our legs will give us all a new perspective."

Hof ran a hand through his hair again and then checked his chrono. "All right, everyone back here in thirty ticks?" The entire group agreed and broke out of the cabin with a resounding chorus of deep sighs.

**_AGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGF FAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAAGFFAA GFFA_**

Dael Bellor was busy heating up some reconstituted dewback stew. The food was total drek, but it was still better than the anonymous Imperial Rations he had grown accustomed to as a Stormtrooper Medic in the Elrood Sector. As he tried to ignore the droning voice of the ship's resident slicer, he thought about his former life and longed for the order and discipline of the Remnant.

Sure, he was bored most of the time, because, really, how many wounded Stormtroopers were there? They rarely came back, and it left him a lot of room to think up ways to pass the time. Unfortunately for him, time was a killer for his career in the Imperial Remnant. Without his lifelong conscience there to remind him not to do something, Dael was free to dream up the most outrageous pranks to play on his fellow troopers. From glob racers in the buckets, to Kowakian itching powder mixed in the laundry soap, he had done it all. But when one of his pranks had the Moff cleaning bildog scales out of his private shuttle, Dael was done as an Imperial. The guy was so enraged by the incident, Dael had to leave the sector because of the price on his head.

Before his thoughts could travel down that dark road once more, Archaya's incessant blathering seeped into his consciousness again. "I don't know why they're all in such a snit about that blast door. It wouldn't take more than a second rate slicer to slip through the lax protocols those spacers always use. They totally forget about the tech when they work underground, that's why they get caught. It's not the spies, it's the slicers, you know. The war was won because of slicers, you remember that. If it weren't for slicers the whole Rebellion woulda fallen apart before the first salvo. Damn space jockeys think they won the war with their lucky shots. One slice, that's all it would take and I could have that door open for a blasted cruiser to land in it."

Shaking away the fog as the buzzer went off on the heating unit, Dael asked, "What are you going on about this time, Arch?"

"You know I'm right… If it wasn't for the techs, the whole blasted universe would crumble, but do we get any of the credit? No! Of course not! As long as the comm works and they get their holovids, who cares about the techs." Archaya was always trying to assert his opinion about his worth, no matter how many times Chym tried to console him, the kid was just angry at the universe, because he was just an undersized nerf, scanning the grid for juicy bytes of code to gobble up like mother's milk.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Dael carried his carton over to the table and took a little snort from his hip flask before sitting down to eat.

"Well, I was scanning the grid for something useful down on that dust rock, and I found some code transmissions. Played with them a little and found the secure signal for an entry port in Anchorhead. Backtraced it to the source and got the ship's ID transponder frequency, plus the receiver code on the blast door." Arch slipped the datapad to Dael as he pointed to the specs he had recorded, but it all looked like Huttese to him.

"Okay, but what can you _do_ with that?" Dael shoveled the first bite into his mouth after his question.

"You give me five minutes on one of their terminals and I can have that slavers' den open wider than a Sarlacc at feeding time." Arch was always a little more confident in his skills than Dael thought he should be, but the kid continued to prove himself many times over.

"Say that again?" Ked Bazzok was standing in the doorway as Dael looked up from his food.

Archaya's confidence waned in the face of the imposing New Republic officer, but he managed to squeak out, "I can slice their codes and get the door open…" He swallowed hard once he realized what he was saying, "…if I was inside the den."

"I'll be a son of a Kuati!" Ked slapped his hand across his thigh as he swore. "That's brilliant!"

Dael couldn't allow the over anxious rebel to take this snip of a kid out on such a dangerous task. "No way! You ain't taking this kid into that rancor's pit! Who's gonna protect him? Surrounded by thugs and slave traders and-"

"Imperials." Chael followed Ked into the galley with his interjection. "Imperials still trade in slaves. We'd need someone to pose as an Imperial to get inside." Chael stared directly at his mirror image as Ked stood back to witness the exchange.

Dael ground his teeth the moment he realized just who his twin brother was referring to with his carefully chosen words. "And you expect me to save your sorry excuse for a squadron, why?"

"Squadron, be damned! Who's gonna save my butt?" Arch squealed like a small girl.

Dael reeled back and sneered at the young slicer, "Then don't let your mouth write cred slips, your rear can't honor, hot shot. I'm nobody's babysitter, least of all some loud mouth slicer with more tongue than neural cells."

"Can it, laser brain." Chym pushed his way into the galley to deal with the altercation. "You may not like it, but I didn't take you on for your smarts, Dael. Archaya needs muscle if he's gonna do this, and that's your job. So, find yourself a girdle and get back into those pristine Impie Grays of yours. It's spit and polish time, Buckethead."

Chym was the final word, and with that, he and Ked returned to Hof's cabin to lay out the rest of the plan, dragging Archaya along as they went.

The two brothers were left alone in the galley. Any passerby would have never known the brothers hadn't seen in each other in more than five standard years. They simply stared at one another as though the other was a serpent about to strike.

Chael was the one to finally break the stalemate. "Chann sends her best."

"You talk to her?" he replied in a gruff voice.

Shrugging his shoulders, Chael answered, "Once a month, at least, just like we promised. Why haven't you?"

"I send money…when I can." Dael returned his attention to his carton of food, trying to ignore his desire to take another pull from his flask.

"But you don't comm her?" Chael wasn't about to let his twin off so easily.

"Haven't had anything to say, is all," and he shoved another mouthful of food in.

Chael pulled out the chair opposite his brother and grabbed the carton of food from him as he tossed Dael a full flask. "Maybe this'll loosen your lips."

Dael caught the smooth metal flask and shook it. Without skipping a beat, Chael grabbed the fork and started eating as he answered, "Poached it from the L.T., probably Corellian whiskey knowing her."

And with that, two brothers were reunited over rehydrated lizard meat and stolen whiskey… Just like when they were kids.


End file.
